Emerson Steady
Then light interrupted by leaves
and drifting cars
songs of speed—
I remember swimming
Scrambling down the sides of the embankment
muddy shoes and muddy face
mountains on the tops of mountains
weathered arches stoned tunnel visions
And once there was a man
between our summer afternoon and the pulsing horizon
swore he dug out this earth with his friends
years ago tied the rope to the branch
Swung from such a height
landed in the bull’s-eye
now the well’s half-dry
but we make do and do butterfly
Our history alive in pond scum
engraved in sandstone ‘til
the town paints over the spirits and slurs and light verse—
the sky painted thick with blue
But just down the road above
there’s memory to spare
dull red tile in regal dayglow
the Franciscans called her the Queen Mission
But there was a time before
this land was your land
just like everywhere else
before 1894, the tunnel, Saint Francis, Franceschi, Father
The skirt of vines
the jagged pipe
distant water sounding
like the Lord’s Prayer
There was a time before 1782
before strange men with bloody flags gave new names
to these rugged hills
and Salisbury straightened the streets
The first Americans
were refugees
refuge was America
apple air and orphan space
And refuge was a song we sang
and that song was America
and I believed you
and America was Spain
And America was Mexico
but the people wanted America
wanted to be free
wanted to be a free state
And the people wanted to pray in the blood-bound chapel
wanted to know the old ways
wanted the Californios to call the shots
in their fortress and their castle
The Carillos and the De La Guerras
give us this day our
brown brick our
sunlit sea our
Rationalization
Americanization
our house-shake, our grass-burn, our
everything
Before 1824—
two canoes on the broken waves
unmarked slaves
fleeing Catholic graves
For blue-black sky
skirting sea caves
of salt and lye
and I am
Afraid of the past
afraid of the future
just like everyone else
They sleep on the cool sand
fifty men, women, and children on an island
thirty miles off the coast
ample air and open space
José Sudón is
christened with sweat and taut
from sanding the twin canoes
that brought them to Prisoner’s landing
Captain
fisherman
brother of the
Brotherhood of the Canoe
Whose brothers lived on this island long
before the messenger rode down the pass
singing of freedom
and revolution
In America
we have two souls
I am here
even when I am not here
So the story goes
there was a time before 1997
before my mama’s car broke down
just down the street
And under the overpass she decided
this land was her land
this land was my land
like the Spaniards who thought California was an island
Sudón sees the storm and knows he
should trace the coast
but now is now
and like before
He is a comet
splitting the channel
and he is a comma
slipping and porous
and this land is
Emerson Steady is a trans poet focused on making spiritual and transformative art. Originally from California, she is a junior in the theatre and creative writing programs.
